


Lights, Camera, Action!

by teacuphuman



Series: A Month of Kink! [17]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff, Husbands, Insecurity, M/M, sex on film
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 12:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5708728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuphuman/pseuds/teacuphuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur lets Eames pick out his own birthday present. </p><p>Letting Eames pick his own birthday present this year had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Less work for Arthur, plus the added bonus of gifting his husband something he truly desired. But this, this was too much to ask.</p><p>Eames wants to have sex. On film. Arthur flushes just thinking about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lights, Camera, Action!

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my dears, it has been so long! I apologize profusely for the GIANT delay in posting. Turns out when you have a child who refuses to sleep, the first thing to leave you is your muse.
> 
> This one has been sitting in my WIP file for months, and I hope it passes muster. A million thank you's to those who have waited so patiently for an update! I am committed to finishing this series, and they're all plotted out, so eventually they will be written!

“Darling, you promised.”

“I'm not sure promises extracted from people under the influence can be called in. You took advantage.” Arthur crosses his arms, frowning at the equipment.

“Of course I took advantage. How else would I have convinced you to say yes?” Eames smiles.

Arthur bites his lip. “Eames, I really don't want to do this.”

Eames’ face falls and he looks away. “All right, Arthur. If you feel that strongly about it, I suppose you can buy me some meaningless trinket for my birthday instead. It's fine. I’m sure whatever you pick will be lovely.”

Arthur narrows his eyes. “That's guilt. You're trying to guilt me into it.” 

“No one can make you feel guilty but yourself, pet.” Eames says, leaning back against the pillows and settling his reading glasses on his nose. 

“That's bullshit, and you know it.” Arthus very nearly stops himself before stomping his foot. 

“Whatever you say, Arthur. You know best.” Eames hold the book up in front of his face.

Arthur stands at the end of the bed, deliberating. Letting Eames pick his own birthday present this year had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Less work for Arthur, plus the added bonus of gifting his husband something he truly desired. But this, this was too much to ask.

Eames wants to have sex. On film. Arthur flushes just thinking about it. It’s not that they aren’t adventurous in bed, it’s just that at their ages, surely they’re past these things. Who would want to watch two middle aged, married men have sex? Well, in all honesty, Arthur would absolutely watch footage of Eames touching himself, if he ever went to the trouble of filming it. But Arthur just can’t imagine himself in the roll.

Ten years ago, maybe. When he was still whip-strong and sleek, and his every move brought a dangerous heat to Eames’ eyes. But domestic life has gotten to them both, rounding out their edges now that they aren’t dashing to and from high-adrenaline jobs, or running from vengeful marks while earning their reputations. 

Eames is still beautiful. Thick and stable, if a little softer around the middle. His roguish good looks remain, endearing him to the housewives in the neighbourhood. His wit and easy charm inspiring comradery in their husbands. Eames is aging well. Arthur is just aging. 

The person he sees in the mirror these days is less severe, but somehow more intense than he remembers. His dark hair is shot with silver, and dark smudges have taken up residence under his eyes. He has lines on his face that aren’t in their wedding photos, and he can’t help but mark their progression. His body is softer, yet somehow more knobbly, and prone to arthritis when the weather shifts. When he complains about the stiffness, Eames will smile and pull him close, rubbing warmth into his joints and retelling the stories of his scars.

He’s having a hard time, these days, finding the man Eames fell in love with. So to be asked to bare it all, to be recorded, and viewed, is all a bit much. Eames had been so excited when he told Arthur what he wanted. The excitement and mischief in his eyes reminded Arthur of the man who had shown up on his doorstep, nine years prior, and all but dared Arthur to fall in love with him.

That spark is gone now as Eames sits in bed, reading. Arthur’s doused it’s flame with his self-consciousness and embarrassment. He told Eames he could have anything, and then denied him out of shame. The worst part is that Eames won’t hold it against him. He’ll accept it, despite his teasing, as something Arthur just won’t do. 

Arthur huffs, angry with himself for this self-pitying nonsense. He summons the spirit of the daring young man he once was and turns on the camera.

“Put your damn book away.” He tells Eames and kneels on the bed.

Eames looks up, surprised. “Really?”

“No role playing. I’m not calling you ‘Daddy’ anywhere near a recording device.”

“Of course, pet. I wouldn’t dream of it.” Eames tosses his book over his shoulder, grinning.

Arthur removes his glasses, laying them on the night stand. “I hope you realize how much I love you.”

Eames’ eyes go soft and he raises Arthur’s hand to his lips. “I’m your favourite.”

“For now,” Arthur says, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Okay, how do we do this?”

“Darling, I would hope by now you understood the mechanics of it.”

“I meant how do you want to do this.” He slaps Eames’ thigh lightly.

“I want you to ride me.” Eames growls, tucking his face into Arthur’s neck and nipping at his skin.

“Ugh, really?”

Eames pulls away, frowning. “Arthur, we don’t have to-”

“No, no, I’m sorry. Forget I said anything. We can do that.” Arthur nods firmly.

“I don’t want to make you do it.”

“You’re not. It will make you happy, and that’s what I want, so we’re doing it. End of story.”

“You’re sure?” Eames doesn’t look convinced.

“Yes. I’m sure once we start I won’t even remember the camera is on.”

“Cameras.” Eames corrects him.

“Wait, what?”

“And we have started. Me talking you into sex is a time honoured tradition of this relationship.”

“It is not, asshole. What do you mean ‘cameras’?” Arthur stops Eames’ hand where it’s caressing his inner thigh.

“Well, I didn’t want to miss anything, so I installed three hidden cameras.” Eames pulls his hand out of Arthur’s grip and resumes his petting.

“What are you going to do, edit it together? Why do we need so many?” Arthur’s breath is knocked out of him when Eames tackles him to the bed.

“Because I’m not letting you hide from me.” Eames stops any protest by kissing him.

Arthur turns pilant, helpless against the onslaught of Eames’ mouth. He thinks back to all those years of working together, the hostility and sexual tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, and knows if he’d only known what Eames mouth could do, he’d have given in the first time they met.

Eames moves to his neck, sucking a bruise just below his jaw, where the scar from a knife nick gives the tingling an edge of pain. Eames knows him so well. They’ve spent years learning each other, and yet, sex has never lost it’s thrill. It isn’t mundane, or routine. They moved from the frantic novelty of a new relationship, into the confident and skilled certainty that comes with a long term, committed partnership. 

Arthur hadn’t know it could be like this. He’s sure Eames didn’t either. The way they still fit together so beautifully after nearly a decade, movements in sync, but never habitual, is a testament to their ability to communicate without actually speaking.

Eames draws Arthur away from his thoughts with a sharp bite on his pectoral. “Darling, I rather need you here with me for this to work the way I want it to.”

“And how is that?” Arthur asks, sinking his fingers into Eames’ hair and dragging his nails over his scalp.

Eames pushes into the touch, whimpering a little. “I want to worship you.”

Arthur smiles. “You do, everyday. Shouldn’t it be my turn? Give you something you can rewind and watch over and over when we’re apart?”

“Oh, I plan to watch it several times a day, even when we’re together. We can fuck to it.” Eames grinds down on him, letting Arthur feel just how much he likes the idea.

The thought of being forced to watch the film, knowing Eames will be looking for his reaction, turns Arthur’s blood cold.

“Darling?” Eames raises his head when his rubbing doesn’t get the response he expects.

Arthur forces a smile. “I’m here, just, keep going.”

Eames searches his face before kissing him again. Arthur tries to make himself relax, but knowing there are cameras capturing his every move, makes him squirm. 

Eames trails his mouth down Arthur’s chest, leaving wet kisses as he goes. He peels Arthur’s underwear off and slingshots them across the room. Arthur laughs, eliciting a wide smile from his husband.

“You’re so lovely when you do that.” Eames tells him, licking at his hip, tongue sliding down to the crease of Arthur’s leg.

“You’re so lovely when you do that,” Arthur gasps. “I like where this is going.”

“Mmm, me too.” Eames runs his tongue around the head of Arthur’s cock, teasing him. 

Arthur’s hands fist the sheets as he tries not to buck upwards.

“Don’t hold back on my account,” Eames pants over Arthur’s cock. “I want to hear you.”

“Why, did you wire the room for sound?” Arthur asks, and is rewarded with a slap to his leg. He tries not to wince at the thought of having to watch the skin jiggle in the video.

“Cheeky,” Eames scolds, taking Arthur into his mouth. He hums his approval when Arthur moans his name.

Despite Eames’ excellent technique, Arthur repeatedly has to remind himself to pay attention. He finds himself glancing around the room, searching out the hidden cameras, wondering what terrible angle they’re catching him at.

Eames pulls off with a sigh, sitting back on his heels. “Darling, what are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Arthur frowns.

“Exactly,” Eames runs his hands through his hair. “As lovely as you are, making love to an unresponsive partner is a little unsettling.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Arthur covers his face with his hands. 

Eames pulls his hands away gently, leaning down to kiss him. “Tell you what, close your eyes and just focus on me touching you, yeah? Don’t think about anything else but the feeling of my mouth on you.”

Arthur let his breath out in a huff, nodding and closing his eyes. He could do this. For Eames, he thinks he could do anything.

Eames’ mouth is soft and warm, his wet tongue molding around the silk skin of Arthur’s cock. Eames knows how to get Arthur off in minutes, but he’s taking his time, exploring the flesh and allowing Arthur to savour having his full attention.

It hasn’t always been like this. They had to learn each other, as all couples must, but it’s taken years for Eames to teach Arthur how to trust that his devotion is sincere. Their first year together was impulsive and erratic, the two of them coming together only when jobs brought them close enough. Arthur spent that period always wanting more, missing Eames desperately, but always walking away before the other man could. 

Any doubts Arthur had harboured weren’t enough to make him walk away when Eames proposed they abandon dreamshare and start a life together. He’d simply shrugged and said he’d heard Connecticut was a nice place to live.

Eames runs the pad of his thumb firmly over his hole, humming his pleasure as Arthur’s body quivers and relaxes into the touch. The thumb pushes in dry, pulling a groan out of him. He clenches his hair in his hands, trying not to squirm away from the edge of pain slicing through him as Eames works the digit deeper. 

“Eames, Eames,” he pants.

“Yes, darling, don’t hold back.” Eames whispers into his flesh.

“I’m going to come if you don’t stop.”

“Excellent, I like you all warm and soft for me.” Eames sucks him back into his mouth.

“Not if you want me on top.” Arthur grits out as the thumb starts to thrust.

Eames frowns, drawing back. “Good point.”

“Well, Mister Director, what would you like me to do?” Arthur huffs hair out of his eyes.

“My instinct is to keep going and then flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. But then I wouldn’t get to see your lovely face, and that’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”

“Apparently.” Arthur rolls his eyes.

“Stop that, you know you’re lovely. Hmm,” Eames snatches the lube from the nightstand, tilting his head at Arthur.

“See something you like, Mr. Eames?” Arthur runs his hand down his chest, unable to feel anything but gorgeous when Eames looks at him like that.

“A veritable smorgasbord of delectability, my dear.” Eames grins, slicking up two fingers and pressing them firmly into Arthur’s ass.

“Jesus, fuck! A little patience next time.” Arthur chokes out.

“Impossible. You make this little breathy noise when I catch you unawares and I’ve become rather addicted to it over the years. Besides,” he growls, leaning down to brush the words across Arthur’s lips. “You take it so well.”

Arthur jolts when the fingers stroke over his prostate, making his cock leak onto his belly. Eames removes his fingers, pulling Arthur into a sitting position. 

“It’s time.” 

Eames leans back, shoving a pillow under his neck and shoulder. He’d been shot six months before they retired from dreamshare and he’d never regained full mobility in it. 

Arthur rolls onto his knees, running his hands over Eames’ chest and settling over him.

Eames slicks up his cock and taps Arthur’s hip. “Up.”

He shuffles forward, keeping his eyes carefully trained on his husband and not the camera. Eames grips Arthur’s waist, pulling him forward to allow his cock to slide back between Arthur’s ass cheeks, and groans at the heat.

“Darling, your ass is still the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt.”

“You’re lying, but thank you.” Arthur laughs.

“I am not lying!” Eames gives him a shocked look.

“You said the exact same thing last week about the waffles at the new breakfast place on third.”

“I said they were the most amazing thing I’d ever placed in my mouth, there’s a difference.”

“And as I remember, I wasn’t impressed with that assessment, either.” Arthur says dryly.

“I feel like we’re getting off track a bit.” Eames presses the head of his cock to Arthur’s hole.

Arthur shudders, taking a deep breath and bearing down. 

“That’s it, just let me in.” Eames strokes a hand down Arthur’s side.

He’s barely prepped, and Eames’s cock is thick and insistent, but the stretch is more than welcome. Arthur knows Eames loves him like this, held together tightly to keep from panting and squirming as Eames breaches him in an unrelenting push.

Halfway there, and Arthur can feel sweat beading on his forehead. Below him, Eames’s face is red from holding his breath, his eyes wide and adoring as Arthur drops himself on a gust of breath.

Arthur keens at the sudden fullness, rocking back and forth before he’s fully ready, just to make Eames shout. Strong hands still his hips and Eames leans up to press a kiss to his chest.

“You’re going to hurt yourself doing that.”

Arthur smiles, finally relaxing into the stretch. “You like it when I do that.”

Eames chuckles, pulling out and sinking back in. “True.”

He catches Arthur’s hands and links their fingers. “Slow, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Arthur nods, staring into his husband’s eyes.

They move together, Eames setting a gentle rhythm that keeps them close, and Arthur forgets that this isn’t just the two of them on a quiet summer night. He lets his body respond to the small quakes travelling through him, the head of Eames cock glancing over his prostate every few strokes. It’s intimate and tender, and so, so lovely, but it can’t last.

Eames’ thrusts speed up and he lets go of Arthur’s hands to keep him right where he wants him. Arthur leans forward, bracing himself on Eames’s chest, adjusting the angle until he cries out, grinding down to meet his husband’s upward strokes. Eames croons encouragement and pounds into him, making Arthur come, untouched, all over Eames’s belly.

Arthur slumps, twitching through the last of his orgasm and tries not to wince at Eames’ continued movements. 

“Don’t leave me, darling, please.” Eames whimpers.

Arthur shakes his head, rallying and forcing himself back into their rhythm. “Never,” he grins.

He takes over, allowing Eames to lay back and whine as Arthur brings him closer. Arthur has always had better stamina, and he is more than capable of riding Eames’ cock until he gets his prize. Eames chokes out Arthur’s name and buries himself to the hilt, breath punching out as Arthur squeezes around him. Eames comes and comes, fingers leaving bruises where they clench Arthur’s ass, and Arthur loves him so much it hurts.

Their hearts slow and their breaths regulate, and Arthur grins down at Eames. 

Three days later, after Eames spends hours locked in his office editing the damn thing, he pulls Arthur into the living room and makes him watch the video on the giant flatscreen. The euphoria of the moment has long since vanished, and Arthur is back to worrying about frown lines and loose skin.

Eames is half hard and giddy by the time the Arthur on screen climbs on top of him. His grip on Arthur’s hand is sweaty and he keeps shooting him furtive glances. It doesn’t take long before Arthur is leaning forward, eyes glued to the screen. Gone are all his insecurities over how he looks, because there, on his husband’s face as the Arthur on screen arches into their movements, is a look of pure adoration and wonder.

Arthur on screen cries out and come messily while Eames watches him, pride evident in his smile. He’s petting Arthur lightly, cooing endearments, and Arthur doesn’t remember him doing that. Doesn’t remember Eames pushing the hair off his brow, or kissing his palm before starting up again. 

Eames squeezes his hand when Arthur on screen takes over, working his body with the sole purpose of bringing them pleasure. 

“Do you see how lovely you are?” Eames pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

Arthur nods, numbly, unable to look away from the screen. He looks powerful up there, Determined and in control. He looks like the man he used to be, the one Eames fell in love with. It hits him suddenly that he never lost that part of himself when they retired, he just uses it differently now. Instead of planning heists and plotting escapes he sculpts petitions to install stop signs and wages war on the local deer population. And really, how different are those things if they make him happy? He still uses every ounce of his skill to keep Eames smiling. To keep him wanting. To just keep him. It doesn’t matter what they do, or how old they get, Arthur sees that now. As long as their passion remains, they’ll be fine. And passion is not something either of them ever lacked. 

On screen, Eames is coming down and chanting Arthur’s name. The screen goes dark and Arthur leans back, dumbfounded.

“Darling?” Eames says carefully.

Arthur nods, a smile blossoming over his face. He grabs Eames face and kisses him wetly.

“Thank you,” he repeats over and over, pressing the words into Eames’s smile.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are amazing and welcome!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [teacuphuman09](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/teacuphuman09)


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